Surprise Text
by crowley-king-of-the-trunk
Summary: Sterling is at work when he receives a text from an unknown number, but he immediately recognizes who it is by the heart at the end of the text. When the text gives a location and tells him to bring a first aid kit and hurry, Sterling is worried that his they may be in trouble. Oc/Sterling


**A/N: I do not own Leverage or the character James Sterling. This fic is a 'one hit wonder' meaning this is a one chapter, there will be no more connected to this. There is no gender or name connected to the OC.**

Sterling got a text at work, ignoring the message as he placed a new file of paperwork in front of him. His phone buzzes again, so he reaches into his jacket pocket. The phone's light reflexed off his face as he stared at the message.

_45.529125, -122.71486_

_Bring a first aid kit 3_

He noticed the numbers in the first texts to be coordinates and with the heart at the end of the second text he knew who it was. The phone again vibrated in his hand then lit up with a new message.

_Hurry_

Sterling disregarded his paperwork, placing the phone back into his pocket. He stood from his desk and exited his office, closing and locking the door behind him.

"I'm going home for today. Make sure to direct all my calls to Sally." Sterling informed his receptionist.

"Yes, sir." She spoke with a gentle tone, immediately picking up her phone to make a call. Sterling pulled his coat off the hanger sliding it over his shoulder, then exiting the office into the elevator.

••••

Sterling stood in front of a seemingly abandoned house, in Arlington Heights. Sterling looks down at the coordinates on his phone, then swipes to the text to see if they match, they do. He pushes his phone into his pocket, first aid kit in his other hand, he walks up to the door. Just as he's about to knock he notices the door was cracked. Instead he pressed his fingertips on the door, pushing his way into the house.

"Hello? Is there anyone home?" Sterling yelled out and the house yelled back.

"In here." The voice croaked. Sterling walked down the hallway until he turned a corner into the back of the house. The door there was open as well and when he pushed past it he say you laying on the bed, gun in your hand pointed in his direction.

"I'm so glad you came. I kind of got in to some trouble." You put the gun down on the nightstand, trying to pull yourself to sit up against the headboard you flinched and grasp your side. Sterling noticed your struggle and then he noticed the gunshots in your abdomen and leg.

"What the hell happened to you?" He ripped his coat from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He immediately ran to your side to assist you.

"It's nothing really, could have been worse." You grit your teeth as he pulls your up to examine your wound.

"Yeah, you could be dead." He snapped. Your life styles never co-existed with each other. He worked for Interpol and well, you were a thief. Your whole life you stole to get by; food, money, housing. Even this place wasn't yours, you had just found that the owners were out of town for the week two weeks. Sterling padded your wound with a damp clothe and you hissed at the pressure it put on the wound.

"These don't look good. I need to take you to a hospital." Sterling turned to get off the bed, but you grabbed his jacket and pulled him back down.

"No, I can't. He'll find me if I go to a hospital."

"Who will find you."

"My partner I was working with on this last job. He double crossed me, trying to take the prize for himself."

"And what was this 'prize?'" Clear irritation was in Sterling tone. You didn't want to answer. You took a deep breath and tried to shift away from him.

"Y/N! What did you steal?"

"Documents from a defense attorney for the Hardwick case." You stared down at your legs, avoiding eye contact, waiting for the inevitable lecture.

"Y/N! What the...Jesus Christ!" Sterling stood up and began passing at the side of the bed. You adjusted again, feeling very uncomfortable at the situation. Your side pulled and you gasped, gripping the wound tight in your fingers. Sterling stopped his actions and his rant to turn his attention back to you. He held your face in his hand, slowly wiping a tear from your cheek.

"We need to get these bullets out." He stated then got up from the bed. When he returned he had a bottle of vodka and pliers in his hand.

"You better take a drink first. This is going to hurt." Starling said handing you the bottle. You graciously took the bottle and swallowed three large gulps. The liquor burned as it dropped down your throat. You handed him back the bottle, tipping the bottle to pour liquor over your wound. You hissed, gripping the blankets into a fist, at the sting of the alcohol burning your fresh wound. He pressed the clothe to your side so the blood and vodka mixture wouldn't soak the bed. He took a deep breath, then removing his coat and rolling his sleeves. He poured more vodka on the wound to make sure it was clean, this time it didn't sting so much. He picked up the pliers and aimed for the hole that was made in your stomach. He stopped right before the pliers touched skin. He pulled the pliers away then drenched them in vodka to make sure they were clean. Now that everything was sterile, he leaned up and kissed you.

"I really don't want to do this." He confessed, before placing the pliers above the wound.

"I know, but I trust you." You smiled and he smiled back, with a slight nod he placed the pliers in your wound, trying to grasp at the small piece of metal stuck in your skin. You grit your teeth and screamed as the pliers pulled and stretched at your skin. This went on for minutes, but seemed like hours.

"There, I got it." He said presenting the bloody shard.

"Good job. I knew...you...could do...it." You panted, sweat was lining your brow and you left weak. You shut your eyes to concentrate on your breaths. Every breath was heavy and painful from the wound that ripped your stomach. You let your body go limp on the mattress, trying to sink and forget the pain that radiated through your lungs. Sterling pressed the rag back to your side, applying pressure to reduce the bleeding. His touch was gentle as one of his hands move down your side to your leg.

"We still have to get this one out." He whispered squeezing your leg a little and watching the blood pool up in your jeans.

"Leave it for now, I'm exhausted."

"We can't leave it and you know that." Sterling pulled scissor from the nightstand, he must have gotten them along with the vodka and pliers. He looped his fingers threw the scissors and began cutting at the fabric of your jeans.

"Don't make such a fuss about it." You rolled your eyes and unbuttoned then unzipped your jeans.

"Are you going to help me?" You stared at him your eyebrows lifted. Sterling hesitated then slowly pulled the pants down your thighs, making sure that they didn't catch on your wound. He then removed them from your feet and threw them to the floor. Sterling twisted the cap off the vodka and poured more of the liquor on your leg wound. You hissed at the burn that was so quickly forgotten from the last time he did that.

"Give me the bottle." You reached out with grabby hands. He reluctantly handed it to you. Pulling the bottle up your lips you tipped your head back and gulped down the first mouthful. Sterling propped his hand on your thigh, now holding the pliers in his fingers.

"Ready." He looked at you. You felt a gentle petting of your flesh under his thumb.

"Ready." You breathed out with another gulp of vodka. Sterling dung the pliers into your leg, pressing and pinching against the skin in your thigh. You grit your teeth, keeping screams from burst out. Sterling twisted the pliers to find a new angle of approach.

"I can't grasp the bloody thing." His face winced as blood began to pool then fall down the side of your leg. Another twist of the pliers then a pinch and you can feel the bullet slide out of the pliers grasp. Sterling pushed the pliers further, more blood ran down your thigh and you though you might die from blood loss alone. A scream suddenly burst from your lips as he twisted, pinched and pulled the mangled metal from your leg. Gently pressing a new rag to the wound now irritated from Sterling exploits. Sterling reached to you, pressing a hand to your cheek. He kissed your forehead shushing you to calm down.

"It's done. I got it. You're all right. I'm here." He whispered into your ear. Over and over he ran his hand through your hair. His voice was soothing, calming you back down. Your head lay back in the pillow, eye still closed, focusing on his touch and his breath.

"James?" You panted.

"Yes?"

"I don't what I'd do without you." You smiled, bringing your eyes to his.

"I should be telling you that." He smiled, then leaned down to press his lips to your. The touch of his lips made you forget of the pain and you brought your hand up into his hair, pulling him closer to you. He adjusted his head wrapping his lips around your upper lip and pressing his weight to your lips. When he finally let go your breathing hitched in your throat and you kept your eyes shut. His was still extremely close to you, you could feel his breath mix with yours and then you heard him sigh.

"I should bandage you up and change these sheets." He said as he pulled away from your bubble of warm breaths. You felt the bed shift and you opened your eyes to see him exit the room.

••••

The sheets on the bed were changed from a blood stained light blue to a deep emerald green. Your shirt was removed and replaced from another that you had in your bag. You still didn't have any pants on, bandages wrapped around your thigh and just above your hips and around your stomach. Sterling returned into the room with blankets.

"This is all I could find." He laid the blanket over me and then another one. They looked hand stitched, each piece of yarn woven with another, an array of colors that stretched out into a blanket. Sterling pried his shirt from his shoulders. The blood on the sleeves made the shirt stick to his arms. He turned to the bathroom that outstretched from the bedroom, running the shirt under the faucet then cleaning his arms. He left the shirt to soak in the sink.

"Any chance the owners of this house have a shirt that'll fit me." He asked, returning into the bedroom. You said nothing but just laying there staring at him with a blank face.

"Oh, come on. I know this isn't your place. You've never been one to settle down." He snickered, sitting on the edge of the bed, he removed his shoes and then his socks. Standing again to remove his belts from the loops he crawled in next to you, under the covers. You rolled yourself to your side that was riddled with bullets, relaxing into the warmth of the covers. Your eyes slipped shut, the tiredness your body felt made it effortless to fall sleep, but just as the darkness of your mind was beginning to rest, the bed shifted and a warm arm wrapped it way around your body. It found your hand and laced your fingers together with his. Sterling held himself close to you, his chin resting in your shoulder. You took a deep breath, feeling your back push against his chest and the warmth that radiated from him.

"James?" You hummed.

"Hmm." He mumbled in response, obviously he was tired as well.

"You're my hero." You squeezed his hand. He smiled and pressed a sweet kiss on your clothed shoulder. Bringing his head up his lip brushed your ear. Then his chin rested back down on your shoulder, a deep breath ran over your neck as his grip relaxed and he fell asleep. The comfort of his arms wrapped around you, the feeling of his legs matching yours, and his chest pressed firmly to your back. It all made it to easy to fall asleep, another breath passed over your neck and soon you were matching his breaths. Each breath deep and slow as you lay together in each other arms under the roof of a borrowed house.


End file.
